


And a Sun to Maybe Dissipate

by RainyForecast



Series: Self-care for Supersoldiers [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bucky may not remember everything, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, Like the other fic in this series, M/M, Memories of Brooklyn, Nice Things For Steve and Bucky 2k16, Nightmares, PTSD, Recovery, Some tea, Vignette, and a promise, but he remembers how to take care of Steven Grant Rogers, comes with a recipe of sorts!, oh yes can't forget
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:51:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/RainyForecast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve awoke screaming, with ice in his veins. </p><p> </p><p>Beta'd by rhien, many, many thanks.</p><p>Title is from the song "Mykonos" by the Fleet Foxes.</p><p>****Recipe/Homeopathic tea remedy...thing...  in the end notes!****</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Sun to Maybe Dissipate

 

 

Steve awoke screaming, with ice in his veins.

In his dream, the Valkyrie had been sinking, frigid water hissing in through cracks in the cockpit windows, the metal of the fuselage groaning and screeching under the pressure.

Steve instinctively curled in on himself, muffling his hitching sobs into the pillow. His episode of whatever-this-was would stop soon enough. He'd gotten very good at hiding his nightmares and his breakdowns. The first time he'd dozed off in a Quinjet jump seat and had feverishly awoken to his STRIKE team staring at him, round-eyed, he'd resolved to control this, to stifle it. But on some nights like tonight, the dreams really sunk their claws in.

He tried to make his mind blank, to not think at all. But the dream-sensation of icy seawater burning down his throat didn’t go away. His breath came shallower and shallower. It was like his asthma was back. _Can’t escape suffocating, even after the serum,_ Steve thought vaguely. If not chronic asthma, it was panic attacks. _Can’t wake up_ _Bucky_ was the other thought looping itself in Steve’s head.

But he realized he’d failed when his bedroom door opened, and a bar of light from the hall fell across his bed.

“Steve?” _Fuck_.

“Just-go on back-’m fine-” was all Steve got out before the bed dipped under Bucky’s weight and suddenly there was a line of warmth at his back, and a hand reaching around him to soothe up and down his sternum.

“Stevie, it’s gonna be alright. C’mon, Stevie, breathe with me. Slow, now. that’s it.” Bucky’s voice had more Brooklyn in it than Steve had heard there in the six months since Bucky’d finally let himself be caught, and he tapped out a slow rhythm on Steve’s chest for Steve to try match his breathing to. Just as he had during long, pneumonia-plagued nights in Steve’s freezing tenement apartment. After Steve’s mother had died, when Bucky had been afraid that without her nursing Steve would catch his death some cold night. Tears leaked from the corners of Steve’s tightly shut eyes in spite of himself. Gradually his managed to match his breaths to the measured pace Bucky was setting. “There we go, Stevie,” Bucky practically crooned. He hadn’t called Steve that since 1945. Steve nearly felt breathless again, and not from panic this time.

But Bucky had gone still, and was rising.

“Buck-” Steve said, not even sure what he wanted to ask for. _Stay. Don’t leave me. Again._

“Just a minute, punk. Stay put.” Bucky padded out of the room, and Steve listened to him walk into the kitchen. Cabinet doors opened, closed. After a couple minutes of annoyed-sounding rattling, Steve decided to disregard Bucky’s request and went out to see what Bucky was doing. He still felt nervous about Bucky being alone around a lot of sharp cutlery.

Bucky had thrown wide the cabinet where the spices were kept, and jars and packets littered the counter. He was opening and smelling each container in turn, expression lost and frustrated.

“Buck,” Steve said quietly.

“They all smell wrong.” Bucky looked ready to throw the glass bottle of cardamom (Why’d they even have that? Pepper, probably) across the room.

“Hey-Bucky-” But Bucky had seized the last jar from the back, screwed the lid off, and now looked fiercely pleased. Kettle, water, and a mug were dug out, and soon Bucky was thrusting a cup of tea in front of Steve, hot liquid sloshing dangerously. The sharp, herbal scent made Steve’s hands shake with the sense memories it brought. The stuffy little tenement apartment he’d moved to after his ma died. Bucky-that-was in his shirtsleeves, whistling as he bullied a hacking, coughing Steve into bed. The whistle of Steve’s beat up old kettle. Bucky bringing him a cup of-

“Thyme tea? Like when I was sick, Buck, before?”

Bucky frowned at the mug, looking lost again. “Just knew it was important.”

“Yeah,” Steve answered. “Ma used to make it for me, calmed my coughing down. And then you’d make it for me, after she passed.” Bucky nodded at this.

“Thought so. Couldn’t remember what it was called, just how it smelled. Though I guess...I guess you don’t need this stuff anymore, really.”

“No, _thank you,_ Buck,” Steve said, and tried to put everything he meant by it into the phrase.

Bucky didn’t look at Steve, just glared down at the counter and seemed to set his shoulders like he was ready to be stubborn about something. “Well, don’t be such a dope, Stevie. Seventy years and you’re still such a fucking martyr. Saint Steven of Second Street.  So I need to haul my brainwashed ass to a therapist twice a week and you don’t? They gotta lot of fancy words for battle fatigue now. Lotta fancy shit for dealing with it, too.”

Steve felt ashamed. He’d never wanted to imply that he was too good for therapy. He’d just never...connected his particular problems with the idea of it before. But, thinking it over, he sensed Bucky was right. The big jerk. It was just like him. Steve’s breath left him in a long, shuddering sigh. It felt like surrender-the safe kind. “Alright. I’ll think it over- I swear I will.”

Bucky looked up at him, and wonder of wonders, the corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked, actual smile. He got up, tugged briefly on Steve’s sleeve as he passed him on his way to the sliding glass door leading out onto the balcony. Steve obediently followed, and they stood together, leaning on the railing, watching the dark sky turn to grey, then pink, as the sun rose and morning came.

**Author's Note:**

> As a kid, I had a Steve Rogers-esque couple years when my immune system was in the tank due to tardily diagnosed environmental allergies and asthma. Even now, it’s not a typical winter unless I spend a month or so hacking up a lung. Thank God for albuterol and nebulizers. Poor Steve, growing up without them. 
> 
> Anyway, whenever I had an annoying, spasmy, hacking cough my mother made me buckets of thyme tea. If you go on WebMD, you can see the stuff is generally thought to help relax muscle spasms, like coughing. It really does help me. Not as much as real, prescribed medicine, but it was noticeable. So I recommend it, ALONG WITH ALL ACTUAL MEDICINE, OF COURSE. I’m not a doctor, always go by them first and take all your other meds- prescription or over the counter. But do look into trying a cup of thyme tea along with your other remedies and medicine, etc if you’ve got an annoying cough. It's likely that it'll help. Just steep a teaspoon or two in a mug of hot water-use any doodad you’d normally use to steep loose leaf tea. Make sure you let it get nice and strong, and drink it while it’s hot. The steam and the warmth help too. 
> 
> Articles about thyme tea and its benefits: 
> 
> http://www.webmd.com/vitamins-supplements/ingredientmono-823-thyme.aspx?activeingredientid=823&activeingredientname=thyme
> 
> http://www.livestrong.com/article/258910-what-are-the-health-benefits-of-thyme-tea/
> 
> I'm creaturesofnarrative on Tumblr, come say hi!


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